Happy Holidays
by konchama
Summary: The Pevensies celebrate the Christmas holidays as Susan and Peter grow closer together. Light SusanxPeter, if you don't like, don't read. Please Review!
1. Chapter 1

"You do know, don't you, that Christmas isn't really a 'Christian' holiday? It's merely a Pagan festival that was used as a ruse during the middle ages. Very interesting, really, but I don't see why we should still celebrate it, knowing it's a sham. Seems kind of pointless, doesn't it?"

Susan sat down in the high-backed cloth covered chair across from the fireplace as she said this, not seeing the knowing looks that passed between the other three Pevensies. Around the wood paneled walls above her twinkling white strings of lights were strung up, a roaring orange fire burned behind the grate, and Lucy decorated the Christmas tree in one corner of the room with ornaments while Edmund unpacked them from boxes that were stacked hither-tither around the room. The thing, Susan thought, was a complete monstrosity, really, practically choked with all of the sparkling silver tinsel and glass orbs that Lucy had piled onto it. But she really didn't know any better, so none of her older, more appraising siblings mentioned it to her.

"You take all the fun out of it, Susan. Just try to enjoy the holidays! Come on... no school, no war, just presents and eggnog and snow. Let's be a family this Christmas, even if Mum and Dad can't be here..." A heavy silence had fallen over the room, and Peter trailed off. No one looked at each other for a few moments, a sullen atmosphere filling the air as they all worried for their parents, especially their father.

After a bit, Peter jumped up from where he sat on the floor and clapped his hands with false enthusiasm. "Let's really get this tree started, why don't we?", he exclaimed, crossing the room to stand with Ed and Lucy. He reached into a box and pulled out a horrendous, huge ornament in the shape of a blue reindeer made from papier mache and grinned. Holding it dangling on one finger stretched in front of him, he called to Susan. "Come on, Su, come help us out. It'll be fun...", he taunted. A lock of blonde hair fell into his eyes as he laughed, and he pushed it from his face with his free hand, still looking at her with his bright blue eyes.

Suddenly everyone was staring at her, waiting, it seemed. She squirmed in her seat for a moment, uncomfortable. "No, I think I'll just go to bed. It's getting late, anyway", she said with a kind of uneasy half-smile. Peter stopped grinning, shrugged, and turned back to the tree. Under his breath, but still loud enough for Susan to catch it, Edmund whispered, "I knew it" with a dull expression on his face, and Lucy looked a little sad but resigned as she started carefully to string more multicolored lights over the branches. No one said good night to her as she left the room. Susan was much too proud to let them see that it had hurt her, so she kept her face expressionless as she walked by them towards the door. Edmund and Lucy were already arguing jovially again before she was even gone.

***

A shiny mother-of-pearl clip sits on the dresser. She picks it up and pulls back her hair with it. Then she takes off her earrings, washes her face and brushes her hair and teeth. She slips on her soft white nightgown. Today is Wednesday, so it has little faded pink roses on it. Finally, she pulls back the sheets and slides into bed. They're cool, and it feels good contrasted with the toasty warmth from the fires burning in the house and the little space heaters in every room. There's a hot water bottle at her feet, too, just in case they get too cold.

Susan sighs. She feels like such a bad person all the time, but she can't stop herself. Things just come out before she has the chance to think about it, or she feels like she has to act a certain way because it's expected of her. Or something like that. She really isn't sure; she just knows that it's hard to get to sleep some nights because of it. Like tonight. Why did she have to act so cold towards everyone? Right now, they were the only family she had, and they tried hard to include her in everything, put up with her banalities... she sighed again, and turned over onto her left side, facing the wall. "I will close my eyes, I will shut up, and I will go to sleep. I've spent too much time worrying over this. I'm sure everyone else will have forgotten by now, anyway."

Try as she might, though, the sleep would not come. With a creaking of bedsprings, Susan heaved herself up, turned over, pulled back the blankets and got out of bed. The clock on the wall beside the little cot read 2:21. Great. Well, it couldn't be helped. She would just try to be quiet. On tiptoes she creeped around the dark corners of the wide hallways until she found the kitchen. It wasn't hard to see, as there were always lamps left on throughout the house at night.

She felt like a cup of hot chocolate, but she really didn't want to do all of the work for it, so she settled for warm milk. A small saucepan was already out on the stove, so she just rinsed it and poured in the milk. Heating milk was a delicate process, so she stood in front of the stove to keep a close eye on it, making sure it didn't boil and scald. When it was just barely steaming, she took down a tall, simple cylindrical glass and poured it in. She took a prim sip, making a little "mm" noise in the back of her throat, and turned to go sit at the table in the opposite corner of the room.

Just as she did, Peter came into the room, dressed in his dark blue robe and plaid pajamas. They both stopped suddenly, each a little rattled by the unexpected appearance of the other. Susan snapped out of it first, after just a second, and sat down at the table. Peter went to the cabinet and pulled out a plate, a knife, some bread and a block of cheese, and set about making a sandwich. Neither of them said anything, and the only sounds were of the knife hitting the counter and the glass hitting the table.

After a while Peter came over to the table, plate in hand. He pulled out the chair across from Susan, and without looking at her, began eating his sandwich. The silence was overwhelming. Susan wanted to say something, to say sorry, but it was hard to muster up the courage, and she was notoriously proud, besides. There was also the chance that Peter might ignore her or get angry with her, angrier than he already was, anyway. It took her a few moments, and she almost walked away.

"I can't do it. There's no way I can leave with him this mad at me.", she thought to herself. On the table, her hands tapped out a nervous little rythym. Finally, when she couldn't take the silence anymore, she started, "Peter...I'm sorry. For earlier. I mean, I didn't mean...I mean, what I'm trying to say is..." For the first time in ages, Susan was lost for words.

Peter looked up. "Su, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to act like you don't care. You're just worried about Mum and Dad, I know. We all are. Try not to be so uptight next time, though, okay?"

"What? Uptight? How da...", she began, outraged, but then trailed off. Peter's old familiar grin had come back, and he was tearing the cheese sandwich on his plate into two. "Want half?", he asked. Nodding, she took it. Now she felt like a fool, but deep down she was really relieved. She smiled back at Peter, and took a bite.

***

"One, two, three..." Hands closed over her eyes. The sounds of scuffling feet, doors closing and opening, giggling. Lucy had decided they should play hide-and-go-seek again, just like the day they had discovered Narnia in the wardrobe. It was kind of like deja vu, only something was different this time. It had been decided, also, that they would play in pairs. Edmund and Lucy had agreed to go together, so that meant Susan was stuck with Peter. Well, not stuck, it's not like it was bad or anything. It was just that his hands on her cheeks were so warm...warmer than normal, it seemed. As though he might have a fever or something such.

"Fifty-two, fifty-three", Peter continued. Susan really was getting worried now. His hands weren't just warm anymore, they were positively burning. "Peter", she interrupted him on sixty-seven, and turned around, pulling herself from his grasp.

"What?", he asked, slightly annoyed. His eyebrows were all crumpled together.

"You feel hot. I think you might have a fever. Are you feeling sick or anything? Dizzy? What about your head? Does it hurt? You don't have vertigo, do you?" she rambled on for a moment, then thought of a better idea. "Just stand still, there", she commanded him, her tone getting a little sharper now.

"Yes, master", Peter began, sarcastically. "You know, I don't see why you're making such a fuss. It's probably..." Susan placed the palm of her hand against his forehead. "nothing", he finished, in a hushed tone. They stood there for a minute, Susan concentrating determinedly on gauging his temperature, staring at her hand hard, her forehead creased.

"Susan, your hand...it's cold.", Peter said after a few moments of silence. His voice was still low, and it sounded a little strange to Susan. She lowered her gaze to look into his eyes, then started taking her hand away. "Sorry", she replied, "but it really does feel like you might be getting one. A fever, I mean."

Peter talked over her. "No!" His sister looked up at him again, bewildered. He had grabbed her hand where it hung suspended over his face as she tried to lower it from his forehead. "I mean...don't move your hand. It felt good...the coldness, I mean. I guess I must have a touch of fever, after all." He laughed nervously, and that persistent lock of hair fell into his eyes again. Susan brushed it away before she could think twice. She heard Peter's sharp intake of breath right before he let go her hand.

Thudding noises resounded in the hallway outside, and Peter started laughing nervously, trying to ease some of the tension, but Susan just stared until the two younger Pevensie children ran into the room. "Susan, Peter, where were you? We've been waiting ages!" Lucy exclaimed, out of breath.

"We were coming just now, silly!", Susan said, feigning excitement as she turned towards Lucy and Edmund with a smile. "How far away were you two dunces, anyway?", chimed in Peter. Susan glanced at him in surprise. "We just now got to ninety-eight."

"Oh, really? We'll just have to change the time to fifty, then. That felt like way too long!", said Edmund. Then, "Let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry now from all that hiding stuff."

Susan looked back at Peter again as they walked from the library. His hand was on his forehead.

***

Christmas crept closer and closer. It was only a week or so away now. Presents started to accumulate under the gaudy tree in the parlor. Trying to act nonchalant, Susan ignored her presents and sat in the white high-backed chair again, reading from a huge book that might possibly have been a dictionary, as her brothers and sister sifted through looking for theirs. She blocked out the peals of delight and the teasing voices for as long as she could hold, which thankfully enough was just after everyone else had tired of searching and retired to the kitchen or the yard for snowball fights.

She had been itching for the chance to check out her gifts, and now the opporotunity presented itself to her. She wasn't going to pass it up. Looking both ways, she carefully set down the book and crept over to the tree. Once she was kneeling beside it, she read each present's nametag carefully until she had amassed a small pile of boxes, making a mental note of where each had been so that she could make it look as though they had never been moved.

There were five packages with her name on them. Two were from the professor, and by the looks of them were books, or so Susan guessed. Not bad, especially for an old man, from whom one would ususally receive socks or pencils or the dreaded abacus. After she had thoroughly inspected these, she placed them back where they belonged.

The other three were, she assumed, from her siblings. The first one that she picked up was thin, wrapped in red paper printed with Santa Claus rabbits. This one was from Lucy. Hmmm... she weighed it in her palm, held it up to the light coming in through the tall windows, examined it for rips. It was, to the best of her knowledge, a coloring book. Well, at least she had tried.

The next was from Edmund. Susan was surprised even to find one from him. He was usually so irresponsible with his money, and almost always forgot to save up for Christmastime. There it was, though, and she took it into her lap. It was a middlish square box, light as if it were filled with cotton. Probably marbles. Edmund was obsessed with marbles, and thought everyone else was,too.

"Only one left", she thought as she put back the other two. This one was from Peter, of course. A small box, not wrapped in paper, but green and velvety with a white ribbon tied around it. She wondered what it could be. She thought to toss it up in the air, but then caught herself. What if it was something breakable? Heaven knows she would have just the luck to break it.

With a small sigh, she stared hard at it, trying to give it one more shot. Nothing came to her. She set it softly back under the tree, running her hands over the velveteen material. From outside the faint sounds of laughter, Lucy's joyful screams, and dull thuddings relayed in her ears. She looked at the box one more time and went back to the impossibly large book.

***

Susan glanced at the plain white and black calender that hung on the wall opposite her bed. It read 23 in large numbers. Her eyes stayed on it for a moment, then with a short sigh she reached out and pulled the sheet off, crumpling it up in her fist. Now it said 24. Only one more day to go before the holidays were over.

They had all had so much fun this past week. There were snowball fights(which Susan had finally, reluctantly joined in on), games of ball and snowman building. Lucy and Peter had even tried setting up a nativity scene in a little valley covered in snow that stretched in front of the house. Silly fools, they nearly froze to death, wading out in the waist high drifts. They'd had to wear hot packs on their toes for three days.

She couldn't believe she was thinking it, but Susan honestly did not want this week to end. Before, in the city, holidays had never been much fun, with their mother having to work on all of their birthdays this past year, and a shortage of everything meaning not even a candle to blow out or cake to eat, much less presents.

Here with the professor, though, it seemed none of their wants or needs went unmet. The children weren't reluctant to see their parents again, of course; they wanted that more than anything in the world, just to see their faces, if only for a moment. It was the house and the warmth, the slowness and general quality of living that they would be sad to leave behind. Not to mention Narnia, although Susan had a feeling that wherever they went, Narnia would not be far behind, even if it only carried on in their hearts.

"Try and shake off those kinds of thoughts, silly girl", she told herself, sternly. "Don't ruin Christmas moping about like this. Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up!!" And pinching her cheeks a few times, she left her room to start the day, trailing behind her the faint scent of roses as she went.

***


	2. Chapter 2

The day before Christmas. Christmas Eve. Whatever you want to call it, Susan couldn't bring herself to admit that she actually loved it. That electric feeling in the air, everyone squealing and jumping around in delight, barely able to contain themselves, dying to have a peek in the stockings, begging to open just one present. No one was immune to that kind of spirit, not even hard-headed Susan.

All around the mansion candles were lit, shining a festive light over the holly boughs and streamers covering every single inch of free wall space. Mistletoe was, the professor swore, hung somewhere inside the house. These pretty young ladies had better watch out, he said, a jovial twinkle in his eye, and be careful not to get caught under a sprig with him! Seeing the horrified looks on Lucy's and Susan's faces, he chuckled and went back to carving the turkey that was to be eaten that night.

After dinner, which was a feast of the highest order rivaling even those held in Narnia, everyone retired to the parlor to play a few games of chess and listen to Christmas carols on the professor's record player. The lights from the tree flashed in five different colors against the walls, bookcases and the children's faces, splashing everything with brilliant patches of red and blue, green, yellow, and orange. All of the boxes that had crowded the room were gone now, their contents strewn throughout the halls and over the tree.

The house was filled with laughter, music and multitudes of girlish screams as the children and professor horsed around and played joyfully, each one bursting with excitement at the thought of opening presents in the morning. It was so late, in fact, when they finally set off for bed it was technically morning already.

Susan, worn out to the bone, waited impatiently outside of the bathroom for Lucy to get out, so that she could wash up and brush her teeth before bed. Her eyes were sore, she could barely hold herself up, and she couldn't quit yawning. She was almost to the point of breaking down the door when Lucy finally opened up and stumbled out. "It's all yours", she yawned, rubbing her eyes as she walked past her older sister. "Yeah, thanks a lot." Susan replied sarcastically.

She pushed herself off the wall she was propped against and stepped forward. And Edmund pushed past her and right into the bathroom. And closed the door. Susan could just make out the sounds of the sink and a toothbrush scrubbing teeth. Edmund was notorious for taking forever to get ready for bed. When he flitted past her, Susan went livid. As the sounds of the sink started up, then turned off, started up again, the closet opened and shut, and all of this took place one more time, she got madder and madder.

After what did indeed seem like forever, when she thought she could no longer wait and was resigned to going to bed without the proper hygienic care, the door once again opened. Edmund shivered and cowered as he walked past, taking care not to meet Susan's eyes, for he knew the wrathful glare that awaited him. "Sorry", he murmured, eyes on the floor. "Why you little...." Susan started, when she realized the bathroom was gloriously free and she could finally get in.

Just as she was stepping in, literally inside of the doorframe, she felt someone trying to push in past her. This, Susan decided, was her breaking point. "I can't take it anymore!", she thought, holding back a frustrated scream behind gritted teeth. "It must be two in the morning, at the very least!"

Susan and Peter grappled in the door for a few minutes, Susan on the left with her arms stretched across the entire doorway, and Peter behind her, trying to pry off her right arm so he could get in. When he tried slipping under her arm, she slammed her leg up against the frame, almost kicking him in the head. "Give it up, Susan!!" Peter said in a loud whisper. "No!", she responded, again in a fierce whisper. "I've been waiting out her forever, and you think you can just come up and walk right in? That's not going to happen. Just wait your turn, damn it!"

As she said this, Susan unlatched her right arm from the doorway and clapped it over her mouth, but Peter didn't make a move to go inside. He just stood there, in his night clothes, in the freezing hallway, staring at his younger sister in disbelief. No one said anything for a minute, Susan blushing like mad but looking all the more determined for her embarrassment. They stared at each other, both looking slightly dazed. "Susan...", Peter said quietly, speaking now, no longer whispering. This seemed to break the strange spell. After a moment or two the struggle started back up even more serious now than it had been before. Someone had cursed. This brought the situation to a whole new level.

At one point, when Susan had both of her legs in the doorway, one on the floor and the other about halfway up, as Peter tried to wrestle her from the space by pulling at her arms and hair, Susan looked up. From the brown wood of the top doorframe hung a little limp green thing. "Whatever could that be?", she wondered, somewhat disinterestedly. After a few seconds of staring at it as Peter yanked at her shoulders, realization dawned on her. It was the mistletoe. She'd though the professor had been joking about that. Now she could see she'd thought wrong.

Peter didn't fail to notice her sudden mood switch. He followed her dazed and tired eyes to the mistletoe. His brain was tired, and it took him a second, too, to get it. By that time, they were both standing on their own, Susan with her back to the left side of the door, Peter outside looking in. Or up, as it was. He looked at Susan. Her black hair fell in wild curly clumps over her eyes, shoulders and forehead. She scratched at her wrist with long fingernails, absentmindedly.

"What should we do? Isn't this silly. We can just leave, go to bed. Well, goodnight then.", she said, looking out into the hall, past Peter to the hallway. But she didn't go anywhere. "Yeah, that sounds right. It's late, besides. Goodnight.", Peter said. But instead of turning around he walked over to the right side of the doorway, across from Susan. The classic mistletoe stance, one person on either side. Everyone knew it. "Yes, goodnight. Sleep good, it's Christmas tomorrow. You wouldn't want to be tired and not be able to get up." Susan straightened up and took two steps, right under the mistletoe.

"That's true, you're right. That wouldn't make for a very good holiday, would it? We really need to go. To bed, I mean." Peter was under the little sprig, with its shining white fruit all shrunken up. "Yeah", Susan whispered, but she barely finished because Peter's mouth was on hers, his hands on her shoulders, drawing her in closer. They broke the kiss. Susan laid her head on Peter's shoulder for a moment, his hands on her back now.

"Goodnight."

"Yeah, good night, after all."

**

Susan lay in bed, tossing and turning. Her stomach was full of butterflies, her heart beat out a fast rhythm. She tried telling herself it was just that she was nervous about Christmas, too excited to sleep the way she always was before something important, like the first day of school or when they were about to leave on a trip. The window was open. Cold air blew into the room every now and then, a gust carrying little flakes of white snow that glowed in the darkness and disappeared in the wind. Susan watched them, floating over her face, as they blinked out into nothingness like a star dying. Somehow it made her deeply sad to see it. It felt like something she shouldn't be looking at.

One little snowflake, persevering bravely against the warmth, made its way down to Susan, slowly, like a tiny spider easing its way down on a string of silk. At first it was just a ball of whiteness, resembling most strongly a bit of soda powder, but as it came closer she could make out the facets and whorls that made it individual. It seemed to Susan like a magic spell was in effect, pulling the flake towards her like a metal shaving to a magnet. Finally it fell to Earth with a little puff of air behind it, landing right on Susan's hair. The bright whiteness of it made the black falls of hair look like a pool of shadows; it was as if nothing was there, almost. Susan waited, but the little flake didn't melt, although staring at it made her feel tired, and soon she fell into an uneasy sleep.

****

Morning dawned bright and very, very early. Susan should know; she was there. Sleep had been on and off for her all night long; her eyes were shot through with red veins and there were dark bags beneath them that hadn't been there the day before. Every time she had tried getting some sleep, the memory of what she and Peter had done would flash on the underside of her eyelids, accompanied by a quick, sharp and very real pain in her gut. A kind of tightening feeling like a hand was squeezing her tightly enough to hurt. This was enough to deprive her of most of the sleep she should've gotten.

Now she sat up in the kitchen, once again, nursing a hot cup of black tea with sugar and trying not to think about anything. She couldn't help the growing feeling that her usual grouchy meanness would sneak up on her and ruin everyone's Christmas. Again. It was already making her feel guilty, and she set down the steaming mug, putting her head into her hands, elbows on the table. God, what had she done? Everything was such a nightmare…She was sure Edmund and Lucy would find some fault with her today, the professor would find some reason to be disappointed in her, Peter would find a way to make her feel even more guilty than she should be. And he already had. She just desperately wanted everyone else's reasons to be different from his.

The birds were starting to sing already, and she knew Edmund and Lucy would be up soon, eager to attack the presents stacked up under the tree. "I should get ready. Get dressed, wash up…relax. Just relax. Everything will be fine.", she told herself, getting up from the table and placing her cup in the sink. The light breaking over the window pane was stained by the sunrise, shades of orange, purple, pink and red. It was beautiful, and when Susan held her hand up to the light, it was covered by bands of colors refracted through the glass. It made her feel better for a moment, seeing something so pretty, but then she snapped back to reality, shaking her head a little. After she had rinsed out the cup, she headed to her room to get ready for Christmas, whatever it may bring.


	3. Chapter 3

**A little update:) I'm quite sure that the story is nearly finished! A big inspiration for the story was Ai no Kisetsu by Angela Aki, so if you like this fic, I would recommed listening to it. It's really pretty and it might inspire you too.

The light shone hazily in her room, the hour later now as she pulled the brush through her hair. Susan had chosen a pretty rose and white sleeveless dress, sheer ruffles lining the hem and arms, paired with a cream-colored cardigan. Her black mary-janes were slick with polish, and she had pulled her hair to the side, clipping it back with a mother of pearl hairpiece, an heirloom passed down from her great-grandmother. Christmas in the professor's house was a casual occasion in all but dress.

Susan took in a deep breath, watching herself closely in the mirror. The other children were already running through the halls, she'd heard them screaming as they ran to check on the plate of cookies left out for Santa. Reluctant to see Peter, Susan had waited as long as she could before stepping out into the hall, but she knew that if she took any longer they'd send someone to check up on her, and she'd be forced to leave anyway.

Some distant sobs filtered through the house to her room; Edmund had probably beaten Lucy in their race and "accidentally" pushed her into a wall or something. Susan sighed. She knew it was now or never. With steady hands she twisted the shiny golden knob and opened her door. The smell of baking hit her like a wall. "Ready or not", she told herself once before stepping out into the hall.

***

The moment she opened the door she regretted it. Just there, in the hall, looking nervous with a hand poised to knock, was Peter. Dressed in his Christmas clothes, he reminded Susan of how he had looked in Narnia, as the king. A wave of nostalgia hit her, followed closely by embarrassment and nausea. "Um...," Peter started akwardly, "They sent me to get you. For, y'know, presents and stuff..." "Yes, yes" Susan agreed, her kind smile strained as she stepped out and pulled the door shut behind her. The hallway was close, and she had to squeeze by Peter, her bare thighs rubbing against his. "Oh" she thought she heard him utter.

A terrible silence, heavy with suggestion and implication, hung between the two as they made their way to the study where the rest were already gathered. Susan could only guess that the professor had dealt with whatever silly fight Lucy and Edmund had gotten into this time. It made her smile a little, a real smile, to think that even after Narnia they fought like children. "We all still act like we did before...I guess people never really change that much" she thought. And it was true; it was easier to be brave and thoughtful in Narnia, where they had to be to survive. Back here, in their world, it was all the same as it had ever been. Almost all, anyway. After what had happened, Susan wasn't sure anymore _what_ was normal.

Peter noticed her little grin out of the corner of his eye. "What's got you so happy this morning?" he asked, smiling down at her. "It's Christmas, of course." Peter's cheeks flushed bright red. "Oh, yeah. Right." Now Susan was blushing, trying not to think about the sparkle in her older brother's blue eyes. She wanted to say something about last night, and so did Peter, but neither of them could muster up the courage to bring it up. By the time they reached the parlor, it was too late. Susan's breath caught in her throat, a surprised gasp, and she was immediately distracted by what she saw in front of her.

The heavy wooden door to the parlor was absolutely covered with flashing light bulbs, holly, tinsel, and anything else you could think of. Pushing carefully, Peter was just able to get the door open, although a wreath fell off and skittered down the hallway. Susan climbed over the strings of lights that crossed the doorway, pushed the ones in front of her out of the way, and crawled into the room, looking around her in wonder, as Peter chased the wreath. Lucy, the professor and Edmund were all sitting around the tree, the professor in a red chair, the kids on the floor in front of the tree, looking up at him as he smoked his pipe and told them a story. The inside was just as overdone as the out, so bright that they had drawn the curtains and left the overhead light off altogether. It was a Christmas wonderland.

Susan was exploring, gaping at the now-huge stack of presents around the tree, when Peter came up behind her. She sensed his presence, could feel him watching her from behind. "Come have a seat!," called the Professor merrily, twisting around in his seat to catch sight of the pair. "It's nearly time, you won't want to miss out. We've been waiting for you, Susan, my dear." "Yes, sorry. I slept in late." Susan apologized as they made their way to the tree. "Ah, no need to be sorry. After all, what better time is there to enjoy yourself in every way than the holidays? Come now, have a seat, you two."


	4. Chapter 4

** By the way, before you read this you may want to re-read chapter 3 again, because I added onto it yesterday, and you might not have seen the new addition.**

Susan simply could not believe her eyes. This had to be the most amazing day of her life, well, outside of Narnia, anyway. She watched in awe as three different toy trains pushed their way around the tracks, their little stacks producing puffs of white steam and choo-choo sounds. It reminded her, in fact, of the train they came in on. It had been one of their first train rides.

Lights twinkled, glass baubles glinted, and laughter filled the air as everyone took turns telling jokes and stories. The professor passed around a punch bowl filled with candy: jelly orange slices covered with sugar, little green hard candies that tasted like lemon-lime, root beer barrels, licorice of both the red and black varieties shaped like little dogs and fish. The hour grew late as they spent their time together celebrating. Everyone had forgotten about presents and stockings. When Lucy cried out, "The presents! Let's open the presents!! Please, can we, professor?" it was already noon.

The Professor held them all in agony for a moment, pretending to be coming to a decision. He stroked his white beard pensively, taking in Lucy and Edmund's pleading, desperate expressions with just a hint of amusement. Susan looked at Peter knowingly, trying not to laugh, not recalling or even caring what went on between them the night before. "Oh, all right. Do it if you must" the old man finally spoke, looking deadly serious for a moment but for the twinkle in his bright eyes.

The kids exploded in joyous howls, crawling over one another to get closer to the tree. Even Peter and Susan got caught up in the ruckus. They grabbed up boxes and bags, pausing a moment to check the name tag, then either setting it reverently in a pile near their feet or tossing it in the general direction of its rightful owner. Lucy got hit in the face with a bag containing pajamas, Edmund caught a small triangular box to the ear, Susan got hit twice in the back of the head, and Peter was either lucky or fast enough to dodge every piece of flying artillery that came near him.

In the end they all had about the same amount of gifts in their stacks. With a quick look towards the professor, who nodded gently, they started ripping paper and flaying bags. "I got marbles! Cats' eyes, Peter, look, look!" Edmund screamed excitedly, his voice cracking like a girl's. Peter nodded absently, too busy with his own stuff to really care. There were other clamorous goings-on, mostly Edmund, sometimes Lucy or one of the others. The professor looked on happily from his red chair, still chewing on the end of his pipe. It had been a while since he'd had quite so much fun, or spent so much time in the company of children, and he had to admit to himself that seeing their joyful faces made him very happy.

Finally almost all of the presents had been opened. Piles of paper littered the floor, along with empty boxes and torn ribbons. Everyone had come out of it fairly well, and now they were beat. Everyone just wanted to relax. Lucy was sitting near the professor in her own little chair, showing him one of her new things, and Peter and Edmund were going through each other's stuff, admiring. Still on the floor near the tree, Susan was looking over her things, removing scraps of paper and tape, looking at each of them more closely now that the frenzy was over. There was a pair of hair ribbons, some candy, the inevitable marbles from Edmund, a couple of dresses, books. Something was nagging at her, though. There was something...something she couldn't quite grasp, in the back of her mind. She felt as though something were missing. It bugged her, but she thought it best to put it aside till later, when the festivites were over and she could really think. With a sigh, she went back to musing over her things along with everyone else.


	5. Chapter 5

Something was niggling at the back of Susan's mind, like the feeling you get when a tooth is just about loose and you can't stop prodding it with your tongue. There was something she couldn't remember, couldn't quite get a grip on, and it stayed with her all through dinner. She had been thinking about it as they all laughed and feasted merrily, and now she mulled over it once more in the wide wood paneled hallway as she made her way to the drawing room to sit and relax. Maybe cracking open a good book would help to ease her mind. "I wonder if this is one of those situations where the less you think about it, the sooner it comes back to you..." Susan wondered, hopelessly puzzled.

The door to the drawing room was propped open with a heavy red leather bound volume, and the soft light from the many reading lamps inside poured out into the dark hall, a beacon to Susan, who was, although she would never admit it, a little afraid of the dark. It was warm, too, as she stepped inside. Along the side of the left wall ran a shelf of books, stacked hither tither in no immediately identifiable order. Susan picked out 'Wuthering Heights' from a precariously teetering stack and settled into her favorite chair, a soft yellow plushy loveseat, just long and wide enough for her to stretch out on.  
The book was tattered and dog-eared from having been read over so many times, so much so that Susan had to lean in close at times to make out the faded, smudged letters. The sense of antiquity and nostalgia only made it that much more enjoyable, though.

A strong, resonant smell of tobacco hung over the room. This was where the professor liked to come and smoke his pipe.  
"I really do wish he'd give that up. Quite a bad habit, if you ask me." Susan thought, wrinkling her nose. She never could get used to the scent, no matter how long she had lived here. After a while, though, she was so far into the novel that it ceased to bother her. She was at that magical point in a book where one can no longer see or hear anything, and nothing touches your thoughts outside of the story. There is a downside to this, such as failing to notice, for instance, your cat ripping the curtains to shreds, or the tea kettle overheating on the stove, or maybe footsteps approaching from down the hall. Since Susan neither has a cat nor is she anywhere near the kitchen, we must assume that the third unfortunate event is just now taking place.

So, then. Footsteps could be heard approaching from down the hall, making their way ever closer to the drawing room. Susan was, however, completely unaware, and so had no opportunity to ready herself. How do you feel when you're in your room, seemingly all alone, radio turned up full blast, singing (or screeching, as the case may be) your favorite song at the top of your lungs, and right in the middle of the chorus your dad or your boyfriend walks in? Exactly. You've just been caught unawares, my friend. You might scream, or blush, or jump ten feet in the air and give yourself a charlie horse on your dresser. This is a lot like that, without the terrible vocal performace.

Anyway, back to the story. The door creaked on its hinges, but Susan took no notice. Not, that is, until a pair of hands closed down on her shoulders from behind and someone whispered "boo!" right in her ear. Susan leapt up off of the couch with a very girlish yelp, hand reaching for the nonexistent bow and arrows, sure as anything that the White Witch had somehow escaped from Narnia and come for revenge. When her eyes finally registered what she was seeing, though, the fear leaked out of her. Now her heart was pumping hard for a different reason. Anger surged through her veins as she took in Peter, standing behind the yellow chair, hands held up in mocking surrender. He had that stupid grin plastered across his face, the sideways, "I know everything better" one, and it pissed her off royally.

"God, Su, take it easy. It was just a joke." She could tell he was trying to cover his tracks, now that he could see how angry she really was. "You. Are. So. STUPID!!!" she yelled, catching him in the cheek with a pretty solid right hook. Shock flashed in his eyes,  
and he put his hand over his cheek, as if to make sure what had happened was real. For a minute they just stared, albeit for different reasons. "You--you..." Peter was mumbling, dazedly. Susan's breathing was getting back to normal, and what she had done was starting to get through to her. "Oh my God, Peter, I'm so sorry!," she exclaimed, going around the side of the chair to get to him. "Let me see it."

"Get away from me, you're obviously unstable. Who's to say what you'll do next?" Peter said, backing away. "Peter, I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to! I thought you were the White Witch, and... Come on now, don't be an idiot." she called out, as Peter stepped back from her once more. Now she was getting angry again. "Look, I'm sorry, it was a mistake, now don't be. so. stupid!"  
she said through gritted teeth, balling her hands into fists. "Stop calling me stupid!" Peter replied, taking a step towards her now.  
"Or what?" Susan retorted. The previous words were forgotten; they were both mad now.

For a minute they stared each other down, Peter backed against the wall opposite the bookshelf, Susan standing in front of him.  
Peter sighed, seemd about to say something, then shut his mouth and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "Nothing," he finally said, seeming to deflate. "Or nothing." Susan felt regretful now. Part of her felt like she'd done something wrong, but the other part told her that there was nothing special about this fight;  
they fought like this all the time, and it was never anything serious. But maybe now it was. Peter started to walk out, but then seemed to remember something. "Here," he said, tossing something to Susan. She just managed to catch it. "I was gonna give this to you, but I wasn't sure...I mean...Whatever. Merry Christmas." And he left.

As soon as she glanced at it, Susan knew what had been on her mind. This was it, the thing that had been pestering her for the entire day. In her hands rested a little green velvet box, the soft material brushing against her palms. It was still warm from being in Peter's pocket. If she hadn't before, Susan really felt bad now. She was sure that she had blown the whole thing out of proportions. God, had there even been anything to blow out of proportions? That whole "fight" had been absolutely nothing, based on nothing except a dumb little joke. Guilt weighed on her shoulders as she sat back down, took a deep breath, and slowly started to crack open the little box.


	6. Chapter 6

*Sorry it's so short! I pinky promise to update again on the morrow:) Hope you all enjoy!*

Memories of Narnia flooded back to her, sparking the left over excitement of Christmas, as she gazed down at the box. The wind in her hair as she rode with Lucy on Aslan's back through the cool dawn, beads of dew from the tall grasses dampening her clothes; the joy she felt, safe in the warm cozy den of the beavers; her heart swelling with pride and gratitude as she was coronated before the people of Narnia. Her people. So many different feelings swirled inside of her heart: happiness, sorrow, guilt, shame, longing. How badly she wanted to see that beautiful place, to look at Aslan's face, just once more. Susan heaved a sigh. Lying on the white silk padding inside the green box was a single golden flower, a daffodil, delicately rendered. The flowers from her crown. It had been attached, somehow, to a slender silver chain to go around her neck.

"How did he...?," Susan wondered, still staring, almost scared to touch it lest it be a figment of her imagination, or a dream. "Where...I mean, how could he have gotten back?" Susan had tried so many times, always disappointed, left feeling emptier than before when she hit the wood paneling at the back of the wardrobe. She was trembling now, reaching a hand out, now gently gliding her fingertips over the edges. It was real, and so lovely, just the same as she remembered it. The little blossom glittered in the dim light of the lamps as she moved it around, examining it. Her eyes welled up as she leaned back in her chair and let the memories flow over her, her attention never fully leaving the tiny amulet.

*  
Outside it was frosty once again, as it rightly should have been in the dead of winter, Susan noted. The tall windows lining the halls were covered with a layer of white, so that one could not see through them. Stopping for a moment, Susan pressed her hands to one of the windows, her breath fogging up the pane even more than it already was. The coldness of it against her warm palm felt good; magical, somehow. Or maybe it was just this night, the way the day had already gone. She was feeling good. There was a contented warmth inside of her chest, and all she wanted to do was lay down in bed and think everything over a million times, then fall asleep and dream about it.

Try as she might, she couldn't get the chain fastened around her neck. She had wanted to wear it to bed, have it close to her heart, but she was okay with just holding on to it all night long. The box was in her pocket now, a pleasant weight reminding her of what was there. Flickering lights scattered into the dark hall as she passed Lucy and Edmund's rooms, letting her know that she wasn't the only one still up. Not that it was late; on the contrary, it was only eight o clock. They were probably reading by candlelight, something the Pevensies had always liked to do. Scary stories, especially. Edmund was probably in with Lucy, scaring the daylights out of her with something or other about headless horsemen or reanimated pumpkins. Susan smiled faintly at this thought. There was a time when they had done that every night, sitting in their bedclothes around a jumping candleflame on the living room floor, their mum and dad listening from the sofa. It was the silly little things like that that they all missed, she knew.

Peter's room, down the same hall a ways on the left, was nearly dark but for a thin golden sliver of light leaking out from under the door. It was closed, but she could hear the faint sounds of a pen scribbling on paper and a finger tapping on the desktop coming from behind it. That was a habit Peter had; she wasn't even sure if he noticed, but he couldn't write anything down without stopping every couple of seconds and rapping on something with his index finger. It sounded like morse code being tapped out, a knock here and there, then two, the six, then nothing for a minute, and on and on. The sound was so comforting, so familiar, that it made it easier for Susan to open the door. Peter was still the same old Peter, no matter what had happened, no matter what was going to happen, and nothing could change that. That was what Susan desperately needed to be reassured of.


	7. Chapter 7

*this is so angsty! i'm not sure yet if i'm going to leave it at this and say adieu to happy holidays. let me know what you thought about it and i'll try my hardest to decide. oh, and i'm sorry for breaking my pinky promise and taking so damn long to write this! i hope you enjoyed it, and will leave me a review! thank youuuu.*

He didn't hear her as she entered the room. For a moment she just stood there, in the doorway, watching him from behind. The way he looked when he didn't think anyone was there, it was different somehow from the way he held himself around everyone else. Calmer, more real. More who he was, Susan thought. There was a simplicity of some kind in the way he looked putting pen to paper, the dim lamplight washing over the golden hair falling in his face. Shadows danced on the walls, but Peter was so engrossed in whatever it was he writing that he failed to notice. Everything seemed wonderful in that moment and Susan didn't want to bother it, didn't want to disrupt the perfection of the moment, so much so that she contemplated leaving just so that she could look back on it later without regret for what might happen if she let herself tap him on the shoulder and catch his attention.

A clock ticked the seconds and minutes off, somewhere in the room; Susan couldn't see it. She brushed her hair behind her ears and tried to muster up the courage to say something, or clear her throat. Anything to announce her arrival. But she couldn't. She couldn't remember anything ever being as hard as this. Something about the way Peter looked...it made it seem impossible, maybe even wrong to try. Susan knew that tomorrow would be even more difficult, and it would build up day after day, until it really was impossible to even be near one another. It had happened before, with all of her family. And eventually they made up, unable to stand not speaking for more than a few days. This felt different, though. She truly felt as though she'd done something awful, that needed apologizing for now or never. Tomorrow would be too late, and besides, she wanted to thank him for the beautiful gift. Why, though, she wondered, had he taken it out from under the tree? That had been puzzling her all evening. Did he consider not giving it to her? It was killing her, thinking about it.

That was what got to her finally. Ever so slightly, she coughed into her fisted palm, shaking her dark hair out over her face in an attempt to try and hide how embarrassed she looked. Peter turned around in his chair right away, sweeping his letter-writing things off the desk and into an open drawer as he went. Susan noticed that he looked uneasy, as well. "Oh, Susan" he said, that kind of monotone people get when they're surprised and all the thoughts float right out of their heads. It usually goes along with the blank stare, but thankfully  
Peter wasn't that far gone yet. Susan didn't say anything back; she wasn't sure if she could. Her throat was a little tight and it felt painfully dry. Her eyes felt really wet, though, and she was sure that they would overflow at any moment. She knew Peter would see; of course he could tell. He was always the most observant Pevensie. If he did notice, though, he kindly said nothing as Susan struggled to control herself. "God, I'm such an oaf," she said, her voice thick, wiping the edge of one eye with her thumb. "Why am I always so stupid?"

"Yeah, I've been wondering about that for years" Peter said, the edges of his mouth pulling up into a smile. Susan laughed, pulling her hair off of her forehead. He always knew how to make her laugh, how to make her feel better. That was one of the things that made him such a great brother to all of them. "Shut up" she said, jokingly. She knew she didn't have to say anything else; this was enough. There was no need for an apology anymore. Brushing her hair back over her forehead again, Susan padded lightly into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the box. "The reason I came was to ask you about this" she said, taking a deep breath. "Peter, how did you get back? I've been looking for a way forever and..."

It was Peter's turn now to look sheepish. "Actually...," he said, "That's how I found it. I was sneaking around in the wardrobe, trying not to let you guys know, y'know?" Susan nodded, signaling him to go on. "But...I never did find a way in. I think it's closed forever, Suse." Here he hung his head for a moment in silence. "When I was in there, in the wardrobe, one of the doors fell open somehow, I guess I hadn't quite closed it, and I saw something glinting way in the back, where those really ugly coats are?" She nodded again. "So I opened the doors all the way and crawled back there, and there it was, caught on a coat sleeve, that matted gray coat, you know the one. The last on the right. And I meant to give it to you, but I didn't have a present, and I got to thinking that it would be so much nicer this way...What I guess I mean to say is, I'm sorry. For holding onto it so long without telling you."

"Sorry?," Susan repeated incredulously, practically doing a double take. "Peter, I'm thanking you. The necklace is wonderful. It's the best present I've ever gotten. I can't believe you're sorry! God, you really can be thick sometimes, can't you?" "That's me" Peter agreed, and they both broke into laughter again. "There is one thing, though." Susan said, almost as an afterthought. "Oh?" "Yeah. Why'd you take it out from under the tree? I remember seeing it there before, and then it was gone this morning..." Peter didn't answer her for a minute. Then, "I dunno," he said, his face a little distant. "I guess I kind of thought you might think it was weird, it being jewellry and everything, but maybe I was just feeling guilty about not giving it to you before. I was kind of going crazy thinking you'd be mad at me for keeping it all this time." Susan shook her head, smiling.

"Stupid. It's good to know, though. I thought maybe you were planning on not giving it to me because you were mad, or...because of, well, you know. I don't know. It doesn't matter, anyway, now." Susan shrugged, a little embarrassed, thinking back on Christmas Eve. She shook herself off, mentally, coming up fresh with renewed cheeriness in her voice. " Anyway, I couldn't get the wankering clasp undone. Do you think you could do it for me, so I can try it on?" The box was in her palm, stretched out towards Peter now. "I think I can do you one better" he said, pushing himself up out of the chair with a groan, his back popping. "Here, hold this" he said, handing the box back to Susan, then sitting down beside her on the little bed. "What were you writing, anyway?"

"Oh, just a letter to Mum. To let her know we're alright and everything." He shrugged, taking the necklace out of the box in Susan's hand and turning a little to get the right angle. "Oh" Susan said, half an acknowledgement and half surprise as the cold silver chain hit her neck, along with Peter's warm hands. She could feel him struggle to clasp it, his fingers fumbling along her nape. Blood pumped through her body as her heart pounded hard. The room seemed to close in a little bit, and she could really sense just how close they were to one another. Susan was careful to keep her back straight, not moving as much as she could help it. Finally she heard the little metallic click sound in the dead silent room, letting her know the necklace was safely on. She was free to move away, but she didn't really want to. For a moment they just breathed, Susan's shoulders lifting up under Peter's hands, sinking, lifting up again. Soon she was close to being unable to control herself, not even caring, not even remembering that the door was still open, Lucy and Edmund right down the hall.

Peter's hands were trembling, his breath hot on her neck as he slid his hands up, into her hair, twirling it around his fingers. "Mmmm" Susan whispered, almost inaudibly, just a rush of breath. Then she turned around, running her hand along Peter's neck, over his jaw, resting her palm on his smooth cheek. "Su" he said, his bright eyes looking right into her. Susan pulled him closer, the delicate necklace pushed against Peter's chest as she laid her head on his shoulder, face turned toward his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Soap, lavender, cinnamon. A quick tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it off, turning her head a little so she could catch it before it hit his shirt. Before any more could escape, she lifted her head and pressed her lips to his. Peter's lips were so soft. They kissed for a moment. Susan kept her eyes closed almost the whole time, only opening them once as she deepened the kiss and pulled Peter closer, to find that his blue eyes were still watching her. His hand slid into her hair again, the front this time, tangling it. Susan felt his tongue slide into her mouth. When she broke away from him she found that they were lying down, arms wrapped around one another.

"I have to go" she said, the rest of the world filtering back in one bit at a time. The lamplight, the shadows, the cotton sheets all crumpled up, her little sister's laughter from somewhere outside. "Yeah" Peter agreed, still stretched out on his back on the bed as Susan sat up, checking the necklace with one hand, balancing with the other. She held loosely onto the pendant, tracing over the petals, not leaving, just standing beside the bed now, trying not to let any sobs escape her lips. Trying to gather herself together again so she could leave the room alright. It was a losing battle, though. Her head was turned away but Peter still heard her crying. "Susan..." he said, the distress plain in his voice. He thought he had done something wrong, Susan could tell. She resisted as he pulled on her wrist, trying to make her face him. Finally she gave in, let him see her tear-stained face, pull her down beside him again. Peter kissed her softly again, once, twice, shortly. He kissed her once more, and she leaned in, desperate to kiss him back, but with everything inside her she lifted her arms and pushed him away. He looked lost. "Can't you see that just makes it worse?" Susan said, quietly but harshly. She saw the hurt on his face. "I'm sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry." Her voice cracked badly, but she didn't resist when he covered her hand with his. It hurt so much, like she would burst.

After a minute she managed to collect herself somewhat. Still holding onto the flower, she walked to the doorway, her fingers slowly slipping out from under her brother's warm palm. She meant to leave without saying anything, but she couldn't help herself. She didn't look back, just said, "Good night." Peter's voice was hoarse. "Night, Suse. Happy Christmas. Don't cry cause it's over, there's always next year." It was what their Mum always said on Christmas before she put them to bed, when they would get upset and sad because the fun was over, when they were home, in London. When things were like they used to be. A sob wracked her body, practically breaking her ribs open, so powerful she had to bend over to control it. "Bye" she whispered, and walked back down the cold, empty hall towards her room, the lamplight leaking out after her, darkness swallowing her thin form the farther away she got. The fun was over now, and tomorrow everything would weigh down on her again, ten times worse than before. "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays." she thought bitterly, trying not to turn and go back, fingers toying with the charm around her neck all the while.


End file.
